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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159164">sometime, stranger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieofthatroar/pseuds/dieofthatroar'>dieofthatroar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stuck inside, here's a ficlet [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Closeted Character, Family Dynamics, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:01:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieofthatroar/pseuds/dieofthatroar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen's thoughts on a little boy she thought she knew</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stuck inside, here's a ficlet [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sometime, stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Stuck inside, nothing to do but write my first DNP fic! Did I say I'd never write RPF? Yes. Did I know myself well enough to make that claim? Clearly, no.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her mother warned Karen the first time she was pregnant that she’d never really know her kids. Yes, she’d change them, and wash them, and watch them grow out of their stained shirts and school blazers, but she’d never be able to guess what they were thinking. Karen hadn’t believed her. At least, not at first.</p><p>She knew from the very start when Dan wanted his bottle—the wrinkles between his eyes would grow and Karen would always be able to get him his milk before he’d shed his first tear. That same hungry scowl would appear when he was three, and when he was six, and Karen would always have a snack on hand to calm her little boy. When he was seven, and the other boys at school would pick on him, Karen didn’t have to ask when he’d need a blanket by the tv and the screen turned to his favorite cartoons. She knew which subjects Dan excelled at, which he didn’t particularly like, and which he simply didn’t like the way it was taught. Karen was only strict because she knew her son best and was sure that he could do better if he just put his heart into it.</p><p>Karen thought she knew.</p><p>When Dan was fifteen, Karen thought she knew her son was anxious because of that exam he had the following Friday. Revision wasn’t going well, and his father had used that tone on him that made Dan shut himself up in his room. It was so common nowadays for him to paint over his emotions with black—as if the t-shirts and long hair would hide the sweetness of his smile or the kindness of his actions. Karen thought she knew that every fifteen-year-old boy had troubles with dating, it was never easy at that age, and even more problems with authority, being a parent meant repeating simple instructions five times before they were half-done. But when Dan came down for breakfast and blinked his sleepy eyes at her, she could see the Dan she’d raised, and told herself that her mother was wrong.</p><p>Dan didn’t say much those days, at least not to her. He went straight from the front door to his bedroom, where he’d stay until he grew hungry enough to venture down. He didn’t look her in the eye, didn’t even stay in the same room as his father for very long, and only interacted with his brother long enough to shove and tease before disappearing upstairs again. He did start to say things to people online. She’d stand by his door sometimes, just to hear the soft music and the tap of the keyboard and know that he was okay.</p><p>It was a phase, right? All teenage boys went through something like this.</p><p>No, of course. She knew her son. He was always going to be okay.</p><p>Dan started to speak to someone, Karen noticed through the walls, though when she asked the only name she got was <em>nobody. </em>This other voice made him laugh and it was nice to hear that sound again.</p><p>See? He was going to be okay.</p><p>Dan went to uni, like Karen knew he would, but that was where her powers as a mother started to fail. <em>(Started, </em>she laughed at herself later. <em>How could I have been so blind?) </em>Maybe it was because she was so far away from her boy. Her Dan. Her little bear, grown up. He was trains away and she could only guess at what he was thinking when he failed, and dropped out, and started making money in a way she couldn’t at all comprehend.</p><p>“What’s he doing?” she asked Adrian. He shrugged and padded off to his room, leaving her alone at her kitchen table. And for the first time, Karen admitted to herself that she felt scared that her boys would both slip away from her. That she’d never know what it was like to be them.   </p><p>Once upon a time, Karen had thought she knew what made her son laugh and cry. What his favorite foods were and exactly how to prepare them. She could read his mind and give him exactly what he needed because if nothing else, she understood his love.</p><p><em>(Maybe, I did know, </em>she’d think years later, thinking of the sound of a boy’s gentle voice distorted by a computer’s speakers and her son’s quiet <em>I love you, too.) </em></p><p>Karen didn’t know what was going on in Dan’s mind. She didn’t know what he did for work, no matter how many times she’d tried to navigate the internet sites with his name splashed all over them. She didn’t know where he found those clothes he wore, though she guessed it was good that he didn’t outgrow them anymore. She didn’t know about his love until something forced her to ask. And Dan, to her surprise, answered.</p><p>(Karen reminded herself, he wasn’t the same teenager that left her home so many years ago.)</p><p>She asked him to come over, for real this time. They could talk and Karen could ask all the questions she was afraid to because she thought a good mother wouldn’t ever have to. A week later, he was on the train, texting her photos of dogs lounging on their owner’s laps and she texted photos of Colin back at him. She parked at the station half an hour too early because, at home, all she was doing was pacing back and forth.</p><p>The train came in.</p><p>Karen held her breath.</p><p>She waved at Dan as he stepped onto the platform and he waved back, making his way through the crowd. He paused in front of her, anxiety in his fingers, a shuffle in his step. He looked at her with hesitation, a wrinkle in his brow, eyes shining bright. He was so tall, now. So much bigger than her. But the way he looked at her made her feel like she could pick him up again and carry him off to bed.</p><p>“You need a snack,” Karen said, taking her son’s hand and leading him to the car. “I prepared all your favorites.”</p><p>Dan laughed, nodded, and followed her.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm dieofthatroar on tumblr, come by and give me more quarantine prompts ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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